


Everything to Lose

by xLaevateinn



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, M/M, persona 5 royal spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24375268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLaevateinn/pseuds/xLaevateinn
Summary: Akechi remained still, his hand clenched around Akira’s as if trying to break it. “What are you getting at, then?” he asked flatly, tilting his head down as he watched Akira through his bangs, one thin eyebrow raised in annoyance. “You have plenty of other people—other friends,” he spat the word, as if tasting acid on his tongue, “that I’m sure would be more than happy to do whatever it is you want. What does this have to do with me?”Akira is forced to come to terms with the consequences of his decisions.This piece contains spoilers to semester 3 of Persona 5: Royal.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 39
Kudos: 178





	Everything to Lose

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, huge thanks to @astralitte for beta-ing this and putting up with my rough drafts with grace.
> 
> As stated before, please be aware this piece contains spoilers to semester 3 of Persona 5: Royal.

“I’d like to speak to Akira.”

It wasn’t as if Akira didn’t know what was coming the moment Akechi Goro walked into Leblanc at the behest of Maruki. His dark eyes caught Akira’s almost immediately as he paused before their table, his hands clenched tightly against his sides. The signs were all there, explicit in his tense posture, the way he squared his shoulders resolutely as he allowed Maruki to wax poetic about the very circumstances of Akechi’s existence in this fake world. To Akira’s mild astonishment, as he’d somewhat anticipated a burst of vehement fury, a razor blade tongue shredding them both to ribbons.

Despite the consequences of their imminent decisions laid bare before them, Akechi remained unphased, unmoved. He already knew, already deduced what being alive meant for him and what destroying this world would result in. None of his behavior surprised Akira, though he had yet to come to the same staunch acquiescence of Akechi’s death.

This conversation felt all wrong for the venue, and he almost anticipated the sanitized, white walls of the Palace and the cold, unfeeling ministrations of the Shadows trying to smooth out the baser whims of humanity with cut and paste treatments. One size fits all medicine for the heart, toiling away diligently to remove half of the human experience for anyone who asked for it—and anyone else who never did, too.

Before, Leblanc was a haven for Akira. A place where he could find solitude, or recuperate, or hide away when the world weighed down too heavy upon his shoulders. The robust scent of bitter coffee and mouthwatering curry always brought him back to a sense of happiness and belonging. It clung to his hair, to his clothes, and to his skin, trailing with him wherever he went. All his happiest memories happened within these four walls and the most important people in his life frequented its booths and chairs. He had cooked for them, had brewed a hot drink when they were troubled, had lent a listening ear when they needed someone there for them.

Now, Leblanc was a rockslide collapsing in on him from all sides, suffocating him.

And he was _tired_. Tired of gods and destiny, trying to defy and rewrite his own fate and that of those closest to him. He had spent the last year fighting tooth and nail against every enemy that dared to cross his path, and despite all his efforts, not a single damned thing changed for any of them. Not for Akira, and certainly not for Akechi.

As Morgana jumped down from the bench and hurried out of the café, Akechi’s face followed his movements, allowing Akira a few precious moments to examine his profile. Soft, brown locks hung in layers from the crown of his skull, curling delicately at his jawline, at the nape of his neck. The smooth curve of Akechi’s cheekbone led to the sharp slope of his nose and finally down to a soft mouth, his lips twisted into a grimace when he finally turned back to Akira. Despite spending nearly all his free time with Akechi over the past month, he couldn’t quite get over the abrupt change in demeanor, the constant frown he wore without his princely mask. For the first time, Akira realized he finally had the true Akechi at hand. No more games, no more lies. An open and utterly honest iteration of the man he’d come to know.

_“Didn’t you regret how things ended with him?”_

Akechi’s gaze was unrelenting, his russet eyes holding immeasurable depth that Akira had no hopes of ever reaching or understanding. And he was such a fool for thinking he ever could. “… I will carve my own path for myself,” Akechi stated as the silence drew on, turning to look at the floorboards beneath his shoes. Even after everything, Akira couldn’t help but note that he still wore his loafers and sweater vests like a past he couldn’t escape. “I refuse to accept a reality concocted by someone else, stuck under their control for the rest of my days.” Still, even while Akira faltered with his words, he knew that speaking with this Akechi was akin to trying to diffuse a bomb.

He asked softly, against his better judgment, “Are you sure?”

With a sharp swivel of his head, Akechi glared at him, eyes alight. “Why wouldn’t I be?” The anger in his words struck home, but Akira admired the honesty after expecting nothing but deceit for so long. “Don’t ask such stupid questions after all this time.” Akira remained silent, stowing his hands into his pockets as he wrapped his mind around the implication that he should already know Akechi better than that.

True.

He should.

And he did.

Not that it would stop him from attempting to change the outcome of a situation that had been decided on before Akechi even entered the store.

With a scoff, Akechi gestured at him, his gloved hand so steady and so sure. “All you have to do is stick to your guns, and challenge Maruki.” As if things were so easy. As if seeing Akechi following their final fight with a fake god didn’t fill Akira with equal parts grief and elation, compressing his chest like a balloon released into the atmosphere. Even now, his heart threatened to burst with emotions he couldn’t—wouldn’t—name. He was here, standing in Leblanc before Akira, alive and well and as magnificent and as terrifying as he remembered. All the intensity, all the fury and acumen Akira associated with him over the year they had known each other, wrapped up neatly in a beautiful package.

_“You two came to a deep understanding of one another… yet you had no choice but to leave Akechi-kun to his fate.”_

“Or,” Akechi said bitingly, his voice laced with sweet malice, one hand placed delicately on his hip. “Are you really so _spineless_ that you’d fold over some bullshit, trivial threat on my life?” Yes, Akira wanted to say, to plead. Yes. His desperate desire to submit to Maruki’s hopes for him coursed through his veins like a poison, numbing his limbs, seeping into his stomach with a sickness he couldn’t shake. Sweat beaded his hairline, Akechi’s eyes blazing as they stared.

Hesitant, Akira responded almost meekly, “This isn’t ‘trivial.’”

The words barely escaped his lips before Akechi bristled. “It _is_.” His voice was hollow, agonizingly dead as he turned his gaze away to look out Leblanc’s front window. “Do you think I’d be happy with this? Being shown mercy now, of all times?” The inevitable ultimatum struck him in the face like a soft, black leather glove. The atmosphere grew heavy, weighing Akira down with all he wanted to say and couldn’t find the courage to. Words tumbled uselessly in his mouth, sticking to his tongue with trepidation and he struggled trying to force them out.

When Akechi realized that Akira had no intention to end the deafening silence, he hissed, “Your indecisiveness on the matter is essentially a betrayal of my wishes.”

The worst part was that Akira knew it already. He knew it like he knew how to breathe, how to walk and eat and laugh and smile. He knew it better than Akechi probably believed he did. Akira already knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, what he would do. He was just too cowardly to spit the words out, because then it would be real. Still, the depths of his chest broiled with overwhelming dread at the thought.

Akechi really was the fool to think that Akira had any choice in the matter anyway.

_“That’s why I created a reality where you two could have a fresh start together.”_

“I want to hear you say it. Aloud. What do you intend to do?” Direct, to the point. No matter the circumstances. Even while playing a game with his own life, Akechi remained the same insufferably sanctimonious person and Akira never genuinely thought this world would change him. Besides, no future in which they stayed in each other’s lives could ever be possible without suffering for one or both of them.

Death would take Akechi once again and Akira would be helpless to stop it.

A hand grasped his shoulder, tightly, fingers digging in through his blazer and he caught sight of Akechi’s face, pinched in his impatience. “I won’t wait a moment longer,” Akechi said, shoving Akira back roughly as he released him. “Answer me.”

A jumble of half-formed thoughts burned a hole in his throat as he chewed his lower lip, fighting the truth his rebellious heart fought to release. “We’re stopping Maruki,” he replied slowly, weighing each syllable on his tongue like a curse as they tore him from the inside out.

An instantaneous change overcame Akechi as a faint grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and a simple nod of acceptance shattered Akira’s heart. Before Akechi could speak, he added, “But…”

Akechi’s expression shaped into something frightening as he waved his hand out in an aggressive motion between them. “No, there is no debate here, Akira. This is the only answer I will accept from you, and I trust that you will stand by your word to me.”

“No, that’s not it.” Akira never struggled with finding the right thing to say. In his experience, charming his friends and acquaintances meant an easy smile, a simple phrase, a listening ear. It meant a well-placed joke or a tender platitude. It came easy to him. But this was different. Akechi was always different. “I won’t change my mind, I promise you. I won’t ask that you accept… all of this.” His hands waved aimlessly for a moment before falling to his sides, a crease forming between his brows as he attempted to gather every last shred of courage he could find in his miserable body.

He had to, because tomorrow they would enter the Palace one last time and together they would face Maruki. Hopefully, they would win. And every part of this rotten, fake world that had given Akira too much hope would fall apart.

This was his last chance.

Taking a step backwards towards the door, Akechi shook his head. “Well, if you aren’t going to spit it out Akira, I’ll be leaving now. We’re going to end this charade tomorrow, no matter what.”

“Goro.”

They both tensed immediately, and Akira’s mouth gaped, trying to rewind his thoughts back to when he decided it would be appropriate to call Akechi by his given name. They locked eyes and Akechi searched for something intently in Akira’s face that he didn’t seem to be able to locate.

“Please,” Akira tried again, stepping closer to Akechi and relief reverberated in his chest when he didn’t move away. Akechi’s arms hung loosely at his sides while his face smoothed into something unreadable. Akira reached over to secure Akechi’s hand in his own, tightening his fingers around the glove as he lifted it between them.

“What is this?” Akechi demanded, the words straining against his teeth.

Akira placed his other palm flat on top of their joined hands. “I’m losing you, again,” he said, determined hold Akechi’s heavy gaze. “After tomorrow, I won’t see you anymore. I won’t get drinks at the jazz club with you, or walk with you through the aquarium, or play billiards. I won’t be able to mess up your hair…” Akira reached up and lingered over Akechi’s cheek, the tips of his fingers barely brushing the fringe surrounding his face before moving his arm back. “Or play chess. Or make you listen to my stupid jokes…”

Akechi remained still, his hand clenched around Akira’s as if trying to break it. “What are you getting at, then?” he asked flatly, tilting his head down as he watched Akira through his bangs, one thin eyebrow raised in annoyance. “You have plenty of other people—other _friends_ ,” he spat the word, as if tasting acid on his tongue, “that I’m sure would be more than happy to do whatever it is you want. What does this have to do with me?”

Now or never, Kurusu.

“Because no one else in my life could ever replace you,” he said evenly. No turning back now, no stopping the momentum of this instant. “Goro, I lo—” Akechi tugged his hand back from between Akira’s immediately, his façade melting away into shock.

“Don’t you dare.” Akechi closed his eyes and pressed a palm against his face, covering his mouth as he wrapped his other arm around himself. The tense silence stretched on and Akira wondered if there would ever be a time in his life that went the way he hoped it would. What was he expecting? His affections returned? No, his confession never intended that outcome. His motives, as always, were entirely selfish. Regardless of Akechi’s feelings, Akira intended to at least admit to his own. Through his fingers, Akechi’s muffled voice continued, every word fighting to be heard. “Don’t you dare, Kurusu. Don’t you do this to me, not now.”

For a moment, the world stilled until Akechi moved towards him so quickly that Akira had no time to react. He grasped Akira’s chin in a painful grip and seared their mouths together with surprising force. A bolt of electricity shot up Akira’s spine and his brain ceased to exist as he stared at Akechi, though the detective didn’t notice as eyes were closed while he pressed his body tightly against Akira’s. The pounding of his heart alerted Akira to the fact that he should, probably, not stand in place like an idiot while the object of his affections threw himself vigorously into his embrace.

Coming back to his senses, he wrapped his arms around Akechi, one hand pressed against his lower back and the other tangling into his hair to cup the back of his head, holding him close. Akira moved more comfortably, capturing Akechi’s bottom lip in his teeth with a victorious feeling overtaking him when Akechi gasped aloud. The soft leather fingers shifted behind Akira’s head, combing through his curls and clutching at them tightly, deepening the kiss aggressively. Akechi’s tongue found Akira’s as their teeth clacked together in tacit inexperience.

His fingers tugged at Akechi’s scarf, unwinding it from his pale neck before tossing it aside onto the nearest table and began fumbling with the buttons on his trench coat. It quickly joined the scarf in a pile, and Akira spun Akechi around until he was pressed against Leblanc’s bar between two of the chairs. When Akechi wrapped one leg around him and Akira gripped his thigh in return, Akechi’s other leg followed, straddling Akira’s waist with a cross of his ankles behind Akira’s back. Akira’s hands were occupied with holding Akechi up, but it didn’t seem to deter him from planting kisses along Akira’s jaw, leaving damp spots down his throat, each movement followed up with a sharp sting of teeth catching on his skin.

“But—,” Akira groaned as Akechi tugged on his hair to gain access to the other side of his neck, biting hard.

“Shut up,” he replied shortly, his voice breathy. “Isn’t this what you want?”

Akira flushed. “Is it what you want?” he managed to ask, before Akechi stopped completely, his chin resting on Akira’s shoulder, hands gripping his upper arms painfully.

He countered, an icy bite in his voice, “Does it matter?” Suddenly frustrated, Akira dropped him unceremoniously onto one of the barstools, leaning back to force Akechi to look him in the face.

“It does to me.”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “What do you want me to say, Akira?” He tilted his head, gaze focused and accompanied by a bitter, angry smile. “Are you hoping that once you have me, I’ll change my mind about Maruki?”

As if slapped, Akira jerked away, and exasperation finally leaked across his face. “Of course not,” he said through his teeth. “I promised you we’d do this your way.”

“Oh, you _promised_ ,” he repeated back, but there was a distinct lack of viciousness to his tone. Without another word, Akechi shrugged past Akira to gather up his clothes and Akira felt his heart sink into his stomach. Already, he played every second of their interaction back in his head, wondering what he’d done wrong, what he could have said differently. None of this was about wanting to change Akechi’s mind. Why couldn’t he see that?

Before Akira could get too lost in his thoughts, he realized that Akechi stood waiting for him at the foot of the stairs, one thin brow raised in expectation. “This is what I want. Make it worth my time.” He disappeared up the stairs and Akira floundered for a moment before darting over to the door to ensure it was locked and the was sign flipped to dissuade any potential customers. Akira made it upstairs in record time, though Akechi hadn’t moved very far into the attic.

Akechi’s scarf and jacket were bundled on the table at the top of the landing and he faced away from Akira as his footsteps creaked to announce his presence. Akechi turned, his fingers against his mouth as he tugged his gloves off one at a time with his teeth, letting them fall to the floor silently. Akira’s jacket joined them soon after, and Akechi grasped his shirt with his bare hands to push him backwards onto the bed.

Again, Akira found Akechi straddling him, his knees pressing down into the mattress on either side of Akira’s hips as he leaned over to continue his previously interrupted task of pressing his lips to every exposed inch of skin. One hand pressed under Akira’s chin against his throat, the other tugging on the neck of his shirt to peck at his collarbone. Dissatisfied with the range, Akechi slipped his hands under Akira’s shirt, the tips of his fingers brushing against his body as he slid it up and over his head. Akira heard his glasses clatter to the ground with his clothes, but he was forced to ignore them as Akechi lowered his mouth again.

The first bite ignited a blaze in his chest beneath Akechi’s lips, and Akira’s hand tangled into his soft hair while trying not to press him too tightly against his skin. Akechi’s hands were rough, grasping onto Akira as if he didn’t have any other choice, desperation fueling his movements. Akira watched him in awe, heat blooming under his cheeks Akechi’s mouth trailed down to his stomach, reaching the waistband of his pants.

“G-Goro,” he murmured, trying to tug Akechi’s face away by the hair as embarrassment seeped into his voice. Akechi glared up at him, eyes dark as his fingers effortlessly unbuttoned Akira’s pants and tugged down the zipper. He slid them down and Akira suddenly felt exposed, realizing that he was wearing less than Akechi was and the detective’s expression was infinitely smug about it.

“I told you to make it worth my time,” he reminded Akira, leaving him hanging as he crawled back up to eye level. Akira’s dick was hard, infinitely turned on by the sharp aggression of Akechi’s actions, of his words. He swallowed hard, and moved quickly, grasping Akechi’s shoulder and twisting their positions so Akechi was pinned against the mattress beneath him. A wicked grin spread on Akechi’s face, almost expectant as he allowed his hands to flop down to his sides.

Akira’s eyes greedily gazed over him, taking in his heavy breathing, the dusting of pink on the tip of his nose and across his cheeks. He eased his knee between Akechi’s thighs, fingers dexterously lifting the green sweater vest up and over his head. Ruffled hair poked out once the sweater was discarded to join Akira’s clothes, and he pressed his forehead against Akechi’s cheek. “Getting sentimental?” Akechi scoffed and he could hear the eyeroll in his tone.

“Hm,” he replied, taking a bite of Akechi’s lobe and drawing a sharp groan from the depths of Akechi’s throat. He started on the buttons of the cotton dress shirt, but Akechi was faster, smacking Akira’s hands away impatiently as he undid them himself. The attic was cold, and it bit at their bare skin even with the heater working in the corner of the room, but Akira barely noticed as he slipped the shirt from Akechi’s shoulders with infinite care. Perhaps he was getting a bit maudlin because the sight of Akechi’s face struck his heart with longing that he couldn’t describe.

With a jerk Akira moved his leg higher between Akechi’s legs, creating friction between them as Akechi threw his head back into Akira’s pillow. Akechi might not care the way that he did, might not find solace in his company, or happiness in his very existence, but Akira didn’t care. He would remember this moment no matter what, even when all of this disappeared forever.

He ran his mouth everywhere he could, along Akechi’s collarbones and down his sternum, grasping Akechi’s sides as he kissed over his ribs, down the firm surface of his stomach. “You _are_ being sentimental, Akira,” Akechi accused, but his face didn’t seem to show disappointment, and his breathing became erratic as his hands dug into Akira’s hair.

“So what?” Akira shot back, half under his breath with the full intention of Akechi hearing. Before Akechi could protest, Akira pressed against the fabric of his pants, cupping Akechi into his palm and listening to the sweet sound of his bitter words choking in his throat. Akira popped the button and lifted Akechi from the bed, one palm splayed under the curve of his back in worship, before finally removing his pants. “This is all I’ll ever have. I’m taking it.”

The confusion on Akechi’s face surprised him, but it quickly faded into a glower before he sat up, grasping Akira’s face and kissing him hard. He murmured something against Akira’s lips that Akira couldn’t catch, but quickly forgot all about as Akechi slid his hand down under the waistband of Akira’s underwear and wrapped his fingers tightly around his dick. Akira moaned loudly, clutching onto Akechi’s shoulders as their faces pressed together. Akechi’s hand moved slowly at first, and Akira restrained himself from grinding against his palm.

Their breathing joined in tandem, only interrupted by Akira’s little gasps filling the empty night air. His teeth bit into the meat of Akechi’s shoulder as sweat beaded at his hairline, but Akechi’s hands moved more quickly. He hadn’t slept with anyone before, but his entire body buzzed with emotion and unencumbered want that no one else had ever produced in him. A million sensations pooled in his stomach, fueled by Akechi’s hands on him, Akechi’s mouth against his skin, by the simple matter of Akechi’s presence sharing this moment with him. Akira leaned back with Akechi’s arm flush against his back and groaned louder than he intended as he rode out his orgasm in Akechi’s hand.

Their breaths mingled, and Akira was aware of a chilled breeze seeping in from the slightly open window. He vaguely hoped that Morgana had realized that he should stay out just a tiny bit longer.

Akechi’s eyes were closed when Akira glanced back to him, his mouth pressed into a line. Akechi took his hand out of Akira’s boxers gingerly before finally meeting his gaze. Silence stretched between them and the dim sensation of the afterglow ran through Akira’s thoughts as he kissed Akechi again, pushing him down at the opposite end of the bed.

“I hope this makes it worth your time,” Akira said quietly, as he climbed in between Akechi’s knees. Without answering Akechi’s quizzical look, he pulled down Akechi’s boxers before wrapping his lips around him. The shock on Akechi’s face was well worth the action, even as he fumbled with what to do next. Akechi propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand against the back of Akira’s head as Akira continued to take Akechi in, closing his eyes in concentration. The sweet sounds of Akechi’s gasps and moans fueled him on, even as his hips jerked against Akira’s mouth and nearly choked him. The fingers in his hair grew tighter, more tense as Akechi arched from the bed and came suddenly into Akira’s mouth.

He swallowed in surprise but waited for him to finish completely before sitting up away from his dick. While running the back of his hand across his lips, he saw Akechi laying back with an arm thrown over his eyes. His breathing calmed, though his face was still red and hot. Without considering anything else, Akira flopped down next to him, dragging the blanket over both of their nearly naked bodies with his head resting on Akechi’s bicep. Neither said anything even as the afterglow faded from them, the quiet of the night enveloping their thoughts. “Will you stay?” Akira asked after a long while, his voice groggy with sleep.

“No.”

Though he expected the answer, the rejection still stung. “Okay.” Even with his denial, Akechi remained in Akira’s bed, their skin pressed flush against each other as Akira started to doze, his thoughts trailing in a thousand different directions that all led back to Akechi. None of this should have happened this way, but here Akira laid with Akechi in his bed, flushed and sweaty and sexually satisfied, and all he could think of was what tomorrow would bring.

A quiet, alert voice rang out, “You always think too much.”

“I know.”

Akechi chuckled, something that sounded genuine, and climbed out of the bed, wiping his hands against his boxers, then proceeded to get dressed. “I’ll be leaving then,” he said, his voice quiet as a dropped pin and he didn’t look back at Akira.

“Right.” They finished dressing together and he let Akechi clean himself up in the bathroom first as he leaned against the wall, staring at the front door of Leblanc morosely, his heart tugging him in too many directions. A twinge of disappoint struck Akira when Akechi emerged, freshly cleaned and his gloves equipped like armor, looking for all the world like nothing even happened between them.

Akechi immediately headed towards the door when Akira finished his turn in the bathroom, his steps slow and methodical as he stared at the ground while Akira unlocked the door. Akechi looked up, his red eyes glimmering in the dimmed lights of the café and pooled with emotions that didn’t include hate or anger or cruelty. “Tomorrow, Akira.” And then he was gone, swallowed by the dark of the night as he headed for the station at the opposite end of Yongen-Jaya. Akira watched him go, heart heavy in his chest.

His emotions were scrambled, but he knew that he had no right to feel any way about Akechi. The same Akechi whose very existence ardently denied any ownership by another person, let alone someone like him. Even in Maruki’s false world, the Akechi who retained his knowledge of the past, and would never give his heart to anyone who took away his autonomy.

Akira dragged himself back up the stairs after locking up Leblanc and sat at the edge of his bed closest to the window, pressing his forehead against the cool sill for a moment before allowing the tears to fall.

“It’s showtime.” Akira’s voice was empty as he watched the rest of the Phantom Thieves file out, the melancholy air overwhelming as Sumire gazed at him sympathetically before exiting last. The door clicked and he realized that Akechi had shoved it closed after they were alone.

He had dissolved his entire helmet already, somehow appearing more vulnerable in his jumpsuit with his beautiful face laid completely bare. Silence permeated the room, as Akira stared at Akechi and Akechi stared at his gauntlet against the door.

“Crow?” Akira finally asked, hesitantly, taking a step towards him with a gloved hand reaching out for a short second before retracting.

Dark eyes met his own, shining red in the artificial lighting of the saferoom. “Joker.”

The word pierced through Akira’s heart like a dagger, like a gunshot. Akira shoved his mask from his face with a shaking hand as he watched Akechi’s expression fail, sliding from his usual cold and calculating façade to something more real, more human.

“I doubt we’ll have the opportunity later,” Akechi said, his voice low. “But there’s no way to know. So, this is goodbye.” He faced Akira fully and placed one hand against Akira’s cheek, easily drawing him in for hard kiss. The sharp edges of the clawed gauntlets dug painfully into his skin, but Akira couldn’t bring himself to care as he clutched Akechi’s waist in desperation.

They broke apart sooner than either of them wanted to, gazing at each other in unspoken agreement. “Goodbye, Crow,” Akira whispered, pressing his forehead against Akechi’s gently before moving away from him, holding back the tears threatening to spill with as much willpower as he could muster.

“Oh, Akira?” Akira’s reach paused at the handle though he was unable to look back. His heart couldn’t take it. Fingers traced along his spine, pausing at his lower back, and leaving fire across his skin in their wake. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> My Twitter is @xLAEVATElNN


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